


Eerie

by DeAnna Zankich (orphan_account)



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-05-04
Updated: 2004-05-04
Packaged: 2018-12-27 00:34:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12070125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/DeAnna%20Zankich
Summary: Trying to relieve their mutual depression over the recent upheaval in their lives, Justin takes Brian out of town for a few days.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Brian:

 

He heard the elevator clank and whine as it hefted itself up the shaft from the lobby, but Brian didn’t move. Justin had a key. No need to drag his ass off that cushion and let the kid in. Especially since Brian was far too stoned to remember where his legs were.

Instead, he simply rolled his head to the side and watched the loft door, taking vague mental notes about the state of his living space while he waited. With most of the furniture gone, that damned loft had the distinct feeling of an abandoned warehouse. Not even the bits of clothing and papers and general detritus scattered about helped to absorb the void. The place was barren. Brian sighed.

The door rolled back far too noisily and Justin appeared in the opening dressed in battered jeans and a gray pullover that looked soft from age. He rolled the door closed and Brian watched him shuffle across the huge, empty floor. He stopped right beside the cushion and offered a sympathetic smile.

“Have you been there all day?”   
Brian had to clear his throat before he answered because it had been hours since he’d last spoke. Possibly even days. “I don’t know. What day is it?”

“Wednesday,” Justin said, shaking his head. He stepped over Brian’s prone body and straddled him gently, not putting too much weight on him. Looking down, the blond watched Brian’s face for a while before he said anything. “For an incredibly hot babe, you look like shit, Brian.”

Eyes sliding closed, Brian said “No I don’t. Shit looks better.” He wanted to rub his tired, burning eyes but it took forever for his hands to get to his face. Once they finally made it, his half-numb fingers pressed against his eyelids and rubbed very slowly. God, it felt great. Brian realized he was very sleepy.

“I have a surprise for you,” Justin said softly. Brian was pleased the kid was keeping his voice low. 

“Lemme guess,” he mumbled. “You won the lottery and you’re going to buy me back all my furniture, my tv, my suits . . .” Brian couldn’t bring himself to finish. Saying it outloud made it so damned much worse.

“No,” Justin said gently. “But I did win something.”

Still rubbing his dry, tired eyes, Brian let his hands fall back down at his sides. When he looked at Justin again, his vision was all blurry. Somehow, he didn’t give a damn. He knew what the kid looked like. “I really only care what you won if it was the spoils of a massive FBI drug bust.”

Justin laughed and the soft vibration of it moved Brian’s body gently. It felt nice. Very nice. 

“You might be happy,” the boy said, raising up on his knees so he could reach into the back pocket of his jeans. He produced what appeared to be some folded papers. Brian squinted at these objects as Justin shifted to sit on the floor beside him, trying hard to make sense of them. Colors on the papers that were probably photos, letters in rows that were most likely words. Justin folded his long legs Indian-style and then he spread out the colorful papers until they made a long rectangle of images and type. Of course, Brian thought, finally recognizing the thing in front of him. A brochure.

Justin held the pamphlet up to Brian’s face and waited while he blinked to clear his vision. Slowly, the images came into focus. He was looking at photos of a very posh hotel and all its very expansive and lovely waterfront views. The words took a little more time to clear up, but once they did, Brian chuckled incredulously.

“Lake Erie?”

Justin’s eyebrows lifted in affirmation. “I won this in a drawing at my favorite art supply store. I guess it’s a reward for all the money I spend in there. Check it out, two days and nights for two at this hotel—The Shadow Pines Inn on Lake Erie—complete with a rental car. I thought it would be a good chance for both of us to get away.” He tried a sweet, encouraging smile. “It would be very good for you to leave this house, Brian. Walk, get some air.”

“I walk,” he sighed wearily, closing his eyes again. “From here to the frig, here to the toilet, here to the bed. I’ve even gone from here to the mailbox . . . at least once.”

“Your mailbox is in the lobby,” Justin stated. “That doesn’t count as a walk. Brian, just look at the brochure. The place is kinda cool—AND, it’s supposed to be haunted. That’s why I even bothered to enter the drawing. It sounded interesting.”

“Haunted?” Brian groaned. “By what, an angry bait fisherman?”

Justin didn’t say anything for a long time and Brian knew the kid was waiting for him to open his eyes again. Finally, he did.

“All right,” he muttered. “Lemme see this.” Reaching for the brochure, Brian forced himself to sit up. It took a very long time. The room spun a little, then steadied, all of which was a clear indication that his buzz was wearing off. Brian figured he’d take care of that momentarily, but for now . . . he was looking at pictures of a sunset over Lake Erie.

The hotel was huge, probably 400 rooms or more, and it sat right on the shore of the big lake. The brochure made good use of the location, taking care to show all the best views from all the most expensive rooms. Brian thought it was a good presentation. The place actually did look kinda cool. 

“They’re gonna give you a rental car, too?” he asked.

“Yep.” Justin handed him another slip of paper from a major rental car company. The slip was a receipt for pick up.

Brian frowned. “You got it already?”

“It’s outside.” The young one smiled brightly, playfully. “And I already called the hotel and told them we’d be there by dinner time. So,” he got up again, but that time he shuffled up to the bedroom and opened the closet door. “You need to pack.”

Blinking, Brian watched his lover rummage around in his half empty closet, trying to find something—anything—suitable for a two day trip to a lake resort. A thought occurred to him them and suddenly, Brian was very concerned. “I don’t have to fish, do I?”

Justin threw him a sarcastic glance. “Do you even know how to fish?”

“That’s what I’m saying.” Making himself stand up, he trudged up to the bedroom and flopped on the bed just in time for Justin to throw two clean shirts on his head. Moving the garments away, Brian looked at the kid very seriously. “So, if we don’t fish, what the hell are we gonna do there for two days?”

“Sleep in. Eat. Fuck.”

“We can do all that here.”

Justin ignored him and continued his search through the closet.

Heaving an irritated sigh, Brian said, “I can’t go right now. I’m too busy.”

“Uh huh. Doing what?” Justin never turned around. He’d started investigating the shelves, looking for more things Brian should pack. 

“I have to . . .” Trailing off, Brian couldn’t think of a damned thing to say next.

“Exactly,” Justin finished. “You don’t have to do anything right now but come with me to Lake Erie.” Another shirt flew through the air and landed on Brian’s chest. It was a soft blue flannel that he’d had for years. Looking at it closely, he remembered Mikey buying it for him for Christmas one year. Brian love that shirt. He wore it all the time.

Kneeling down, Justin began rooting through the boxes on the floor of the closet. Brian sat up and absently folded the shirts up to be packed, even though he still wasn’t convinced he should go. He was so tired, after all. And so stoned. He should really sleep for awhile before making any big moves.

“You can sleep in the car,” Justin told him, clearly reading his mind like he did sometimes. Brian used to hate it when the kid did that. For some reason, it wasn’t bugging him at all just then. Justin reading his mind meant he didn’t have to talk so much and that talking thing . . . well, it was damned exhausting. 

Deciding sitting up was too much trouble, Brian slumped down into the pillows again and closed his eyes. Behind the darkness of his eyelids, he listened to the sounds of Justin getting out his overnight bag and zipping it open. He listened while the kid went into the bathroom and gathered some toiletries, then came back to the bedroom and put them into the bag. He listened to the faint squeak of shoes with rubber soles being tucked into the bottom of the bag. Vaguely he wondered which shoes Justin had selected, but he didn’t care enough to open his eyes and look. Brian just laid there, listening to all the interesting little noises of his things being packed, trying to discern which sound lead to which activity. He amused himself in this manner until the packing sounds stopped and then he heard the bag being zipped up.

“There,” Justin said and Brian heard the bag hit the floor by the bed. “If you need anything else, we’ll just have to buy it at the hotel.”

“With what?” Brian said, really not liking the whiny quality of his voice. He didn’t make that sound very often and it was sickening and foreign to his ear.

“I have some cash,” the younger man said and Brian felt him crawl across the bed to lie beside him. 

Finally, he opened his heavy eyes and looked at the handsome young face in front of him. Again, Brian sighed and inside his head, the sound of it was like the sigh of an old woman.

Justin’s blue eyes twinkled like they always did—twinkled like aqua-marine crystals. His smooth cheeks were a little pink from the exertion of packing and Brian was reminded of how this boy looked when he was coming. Beautiful, sexy, wanton and fearless. Brian loved to watch his face when they were fucking. Every little thing the boy felt manifested in an expression. It made Brian feel powerful and strong to watch all the changes he was creating for his lover. 

Suddenly, for some reason, Justin looked away from him, his lips struggling with a shy smile. “Stop it,” he said.

“What?”

“You’re staring at me like . . .” The boy shrugged self-consciously. “I don’t know. You’re just giving me a LOOK I don’t know what to do with. Come on.” He sat up and stood beside the bed, reaching back for Brian’s hand. “Let’s get some shoes on you and get outta here. We can be at the hotel in 2 hours.”

Brian extended his hand and let Justin take it but when he did, he pulled the kid back onto the bed. He must have used a bit more force than he intended because the boy literally toppled on him and that made them both laugh. It felt good to laugh and Brian went with it, all the way to the point of giggling. He rolled over on the disheveled bed until he was on top of the blond, then he covered that hot young mouth with a deep kiss. 

Like always, Justin inhaled Brian’s scent with his whole body when they kissed. Arms, legs, lips, belly . . . all lifting, pressing, touching, wanting more. Brian closed his eyes again and let himself melt into Justin’s embrace, feeling himself fall a little, fly a little. The boy’s mouth tasted clean and wet and his tongue stroked Brian’s so skillfully, it was almost scary. The kiss went on and on and Brian would have been perfectly happy to stay right there and make out with that boy for the rest of the week, but Justin pulled softly away from him far too soon. They looked at each other for a suspended moment before the kid spoke.

“Brian,” he whispered.

“Hm?” His body burned with desire, but he realized with deepening unease that he wasn’t hard. Probably too much pot. Yeah, that must be it. Way too much pot.

“Let’s go, okay? If we leave now, we won’t get stuck in rush hour traffic.” Justin tried to move out from under him, but Brian didn’t let him just yet. The blond looked at him curiously. “What?”

“We can go after the traffic,” Brian said, lowering his chin seductively. “Let’s amuse ourselves until all those commuter fools get off the road.” He nibbled Justin’s bottom lip, then kissed him again, concentrating on how good it felt to be holding the boy. Normally, Brian’s body would utterly bloom with lust from one or two little smooches with Justin, but that day . . . that moment . . . something was wrong. Then again, something had BEEN wrong for a few days. Brian was totally off his game.

Again, Justin separated the kiss, but he did it gently. “Come on, you’re just stalling cuz you think I’m gonna make you go walleye fishing.” He gave Brian a little tickle in the ribs then he did manage to get up. Once again, he stood at the edge of the bed and reached back for Brian’s hand. “Come on, lazy ass. You can slouch like a slug in the car. I’m doing all the driving.”

“Listen to you,” Brian teased. “All butched up and no one to spank.”

“I’ll spank YOU without any problem. Now, get off the goddamned bed.” Justin stood there with his hand out and his jaw set with staunch authority. Brian chuckled. The kid was fucking adorable. 

“All right, all right,” he moaned, dragging himself off the bed and heading for the closet to get his shoes. “Jesus, when did you get so bossy?”

“The minute you became Lifeless Depression Man,” Justin retorted.

Brian flinched inwardly from the remark, but didn’t show it. Or at least he tried not to. He found his tennis shoes in the closet and sat on the bed to put them on. Although his movements were still pretty slow, he was feeling a little more sober. Yes, that would definitely have to be remedied soon. Sober meant the panic would be coming back. And that, in no uncertain terms, was a bad thing.

Once he’d got his shoes on, he stood up and reached for the bag Justin had packed for him. On top of it was an old straw hat that Brian hadn’t seen since it arrived in this house over a year ago. He scowled at it accusingly. “What the fuck is that?”

“It looks like a fishing hat,” Justin said, walking around to pick it up. He placed the hat on his own head and looked at himself in the mirror beside the closet. “I think it’s cool. It’s not yours?”

“Right,” Brian snarked. “I wear that every fucking day. Of course it’s not mine. It’s . . . my father’s. Or it was. My sister brought it over here one day with some more of his shit to see if I wanted it before it went to the Salvation Army.”

“And you kept this?”

“Not intentionally,” Brian said. He picked up the bag and walked out of the bedroom, taking heavy, irritated steps across the floor. He grabbed his keys off the kitchen counter, then stood at the door waiting. The thought of his father had put a sour taste in his mouth and he wanted to get to the nearest bottle of Jim Beam as soon as possible. “Come on,” he barked. “If we’re going, let’s go. I want to stop at Woody’s on the way out.”

 

Justin crossed the loft still wearing that idiotic hat. The fact that he looked nine kinds of cute in it didn’t soften Brian’s attitude one bit. 

“You’re not bringing that fucking thing,” he growled. “Put it in the trash.”

“No,” Justin said. “And we’re not stopping at Woody’s, either. If I let you go in there, I’ll never get you back in the car.” He stepped right up to Brian until their bodies touched and Brian could feel the warmth of the young one’s half erect cock. At least the kisses had worked for him. “Besides,” Justin whispered. “I thought of everything. Don’t worry, you’ll see. Let’s just go . . . out the door . . . go.” He flipped his hands like he was shoo-ing a stray dog.

Brian rolled the door back and they stepped out into the hallway. Locking up, he turned around to see Justin heading down the stairs—still wearing his father’s hat. 

“Take it off,” he said, his voice soft but his tone cold and steely. Just like his father used to sound. 

Justin stopped on the landing and squinted up at him, tilting his head back so he could see out from under the wide brim of the hat. “What’s your problem, Kinney?” he said. “It’s just a hat. You didn’t even like your dad, what do you care if I wear it?”

“I don’t want to look at it,” Brian said. “Throw it away when we get outside.” He trotted down the stairs then passed Justin on the landing, brushing him with his shoulder. “Please,” he murmured, then continued on down to the lobby. He felt his young lover watching him from behind but he knew Justin wouldn’t ask him anything more about the hat. 

He also knew the little fucker wouldn’t throw it away.

****************

Justin:

 

I swear to God, I never know what to do with him when he gets like this. 

I try to be totally patient with him and his ‘my dad hated me’ drama, but whose dad didn’t? I mean, it’s not like he can corner the market on that particular torch song. He needs to get over it already. The old fuck is dead and buried. I wish Brian would move on. I mean, I made peace with my dad—sorta. It can be done. 

It’s probably just because he’s depressed about losing his job. And all his stuff. But I keep telling him he should be totally, ridiculously proud of what he did—and why. I know I am. In fact, I’m so proud of him, I could explode. Sometimes I look at him and I can’t believe I actually KNOW him, I’m so impressed with what he did. I know, I know—I’m not gonna go off on my St. Brian kick again, but if any one of us here on Liberty Avenue SHOULD be sainted—hellOH! 

Right, so I’m thinking this few days out of the city will do him good. Maybe snap him out of his funk. I’ve never seen him so despondent, so completely flattened. I wonder if he was like this when I left him for Ethan. Michael told me he’d never seen Brian so down, not in their whole lives. Well, if this current mood is anything like how he was then—I feel even worse for leaving.

But that’s the past. 

And besides, I had to do it. Leaving him was the only way to get him back.

Hence, here we are. Together. Lovers again. And as part of my duties as his lover, I need to take care of him when his chips are down. Not that my life is a big bed of roses right now, either—but at least . . . yeah, here I go with the stupid wistful shit again . . . at least we have each other.

One thing I must say is really nice about him being all broody and sad—he hugs me constantly. I love that. He’s not really hugging ME as much as he’s taking hugs for himself. Well, not that I wouldn’t just give them, but . . . you know what I mean. He’s hugging me because he needs me to hug him. I fucking love that more than I can explain.

Once we’re in the rental car, he’s all fidgety and shifting around—playing with the seatbelt, looking for his cigarettes, taking his sunglasses off and on. The car isn’t bad, really. It’s a Honda Accord. It’s white, but we can ignore that. At least it’s not red. I wouldn’t have taken it if it was red. 

I know he’s gonna be happy when I show him the cooler. He’ll calm down a lot. I get into the driver’s seat and reach back behind his seat, pop open the cooler top and take out the travel tumbler I have in there for him. I fill it up with ice, then hand it to him to hold while I open the fifth of Jim Beam. I pour, he grins. It’s all good. I give him a Coke just in case he wants to mix and then I grab a bottle of water for myself before I close the cooler.

“See?” I say. “I told you I thought of everything.”

“I don’t know,” he teases. “Did you pack my favorite black leather dildo?”

I just give him a sidelong glance as I start the car. He won’t be needing any dildos if I have anything to say about it. 

But that doesn’t mean I didn’t pack it.

*******************

Brian:

 

Looking out the window at the traffic stopped at the light on Cemetery Lane, Brian focused on a homeless woman walking through the cars holding out an empty McDonald’s soda cup. He watched her go from car to car, holding the cup out and looking at the drivers with an expression of silent desperation. 

“God,” Justin said softly. “It’s so fucked up that she has to do that.”

Brian said nothing, he just kept watching her as she made her way closer to them. When the woman came to the car in front of them—a battered but functional Toyota Celica—she stopped. The driver was a girl, no older than Justin, and she rolled the window down to put a small stack of change into the woman’s cup. The windows in their car were open and Brian heard the driver say she was sorry it wasn’t more. The woman smiled and told her god would bless her kindness and then she moved on to their car.

Justin put a few bills and some change into her cup and the woman said the same thing to him about god. Brian continued to watch her as she went to the car behind them—a brand new Cadillac SUV. The balding, middle-aged man in the driver’s seat rolled the window up before the woman got near enough to make her inquiry.

“Christ,” Brian hissed. “If anyone should be apologizing . . . I bet he’d never tell what he had to do to get that fucking car.” He turned his attention back to the cool cocktail in his hand and took a deep drink.

Justin watched him for a long moment, his blue eyes squinting discerningly.

“What?” Brian said, feeling strangely defensive. “Like Cadillac Man can’t spare some fucking pocket change? We’re both broke and you gave her money.”

The blond still looked at him, but he was smiling a little. Then he leaned over and gave Brian a soft, sweet kiss on the lips. Brian frowned slightly, wondering what he’d done to get kissed just then. 

Justin put the car in gear as the light changed and traffic moved forward toward the onramp to Interstate 279. He was still smiling, but he didn’t say why. Brian decided he didn’t need to know.

 

**************

Justin:

He cracks me up. 

When I first met him, Brian Kinney was the biggest, most selfish asshole on planet Earth. Not that he wouldn’t give money to homeless people, because he did—I saw him do it lots of times. But he would never let anyone say anything to him about it. It embarrassed him. Back then, his natural tendencies toward generosity made him uncomfortable. He wanted to be seen as a hard, conceited jerk who didn’t care about anyone else but himself. I guess he thought that would protect him, sort of like surrounding himself with barbed wire. Fat load o’ good it did. I saw right through him as he was walking toward me under that street lamp and he’s never fooled me for one minute since.

He doesn’t know why I’m smirking at him now and that’s probably just as well. If I told him what I was thinking, he’d just get all grouchy. Well, grouchiER. No, it’s better to just let him sit there and wonder. And I’ll just keep thinking about how awesome he is and about how I seem to fall deeper in love with him every day. Still. Sometimes I wonder if there’s a bottom to this well of emotion I feel for him—and if I keep falling, how am I ever gonna get out?

****************

Brian:

 

They just missed the afternoon commuters as they got on the Interstate and Brian settled into the comfortable passenger seat with his drink between his legs. The day was sunny, but not too hot. A good day for a drive. Now that he was out of the house, he did actually feel better. Lighter in some way.

They didn’t talk much during the drive. Justin kept changing channels on the radio, sometimes singing softly to the songs. Brian watched the scenery and had his drink, trying to keep his mind blank. 

When he’d finished his first drink, he turned around to rummage in the cooler for the JB. That goddamned straw hat was on the back seat, seeming to stare at him accusingly while he refreshed his beverage. Brian tried to ignore it. He remembered the last time he’d seen his father in that thing and, like the majority of his memories of Jack Kinney, it was not a warm and fuzzy recollection.

Brian had been 15 and his parents had dragged him and his sister to a BBQ at the house of one of Joan’s friends. Jack had been wearing that stupid hat to keep the sun off his balding head. The more beer the elder Kinney drank, the more obnoxious he got until his slightly off-color remarks became outright insults—mostly directed at Brian. The comments varied in those days, ranging from cracks about how he spent way too much time with that little fairy boy, Novotny, to the standard diatribe about why Brian didn’t have a girlfriend. Such a good-looking, athletic boy—why wasn’t he bangin’ half the girls in school? 

When Brian didn’t take the bait and succeeded in ignoring the old man, he turned his high-powered hatred on Claire. Usually, his verbal assaults on Brian’s sister would jump off from the insults he’d given Brian. Jack would tell her he understood why she didn’t date a lot, SHE was ugly. That was usually the time Brian would try to defend Claire and his father would move on to the next level of play—hitting. 

That day, Brian remembered ending up with a split lit and a broken rib—all because he tried to defend his sister. He had the memory of his mother being there through it all, but he had absolutely no recollection of her doing anything about the assault. Brian didn’t even remember her telling Jack to calm down. Vaguely, he did remember her apologizing to her friends for her SON’s temper. Funny how things go.

As the sun moved down the bright blue sky, Brian rubbed the back of his neck. He glanced over at Justin in the driver’s seat and the blond smiled at him, reaching over with his warm fingers to pet Brian’s thigh. 

“How are you?” Justin said, glancing at the tumbler. “Feelin’ no pain?”

Brian covered the boy’s hand with his own and gently played with those silky fingers. “No pain,” he said quietly, like a wish. “Are we almost there?”

“According to the map, we should be seeing the place any minute. Are you getting hungry?” Justin’s fingers slinked up the inside of Brian’s thigh, tickling deliciously. He stopped when he reached the ample swelling at the crotch and his fingers rested there, cupping Brian’s balls gently. Heat traveled up his body from the point of contact and Brian sighed gratefully as he felt his cock began to fill with blood. Oh, sweet erection. 

Justin grinned. “Well, well. You must be feeling better. See what a little fresh air can do for you?”

Chuckling, Brian leaned over and kissed the soft skin under Justin’s ear. Then he nipped at the tender lobe and whispered, “now that you got me hard, you gotta get me off.”

“Oh, I will . . .” Justin purred. “But, there’s our exit.” He pulled off the Interstate and wound down the off ramp to a quiet, rural road. Lake Erie glimmered before them in the late afternoon sunlight and Justin turned the car toward the water.

About a mile later, the rooftop of the Shadow Pines in came into view. Justin turned at the elaborate Welcome sign and made his way down to the parking lot. A valet took the car and they grabbed the bags out of the trunk. Justin went back for that damned hat.

Brian let his young companion handle checking in since he was the contest winner and all. Besides, he was too drunk to be much good at communicating with strangers. The woman at the counter gave him a few up and down looks after Justin told her they only needed one king size bed in the room. If he were in a different frame of mind, he might have popped off a remark to her, but as it was . . . standing up was taking all his energy.

They got the room key and went up to the 4th floor, emerging from the elevator into an elegantly carpeted hallway. 

“We probably got a crappy room cuz it’s a contest,” Justin said as they followed the signs leading to room 413. “I’m sure they’re saving the nice rooms for the paying guests.”

“They should be grateful to have us here decorating their landscape,” Brian muttered. He leaned against the wall outside the room while Justin slid the key card in and unlocked the door.

The room was far from crappy. In fact, it was huge and beautifully appointed with a fireplace and a Jacuzzi tub in the bathroom. There was even a little balcony that overlooked the water. The sliding glass doors were open to air out the room and the white curtains billowed softly in the breeze.

Justin tossed that hat on the dresser, dropped his bag on the enormous bed and turned to Brian with a big smile. “Not bad, huh?”

“Not bad.” Brian put his own bag down then scooped the boy’s lean body up in his arms, tumbling back on the mattress. 

Justin grinned at him. “I seem to recall you and I having a really good time in a hotel room once.”

Brian breathed a laugh remembering all the drama from that long ago day in New York, then he moved in to taste that sweet, ripe mouth again. “Good thing you turned out to be worth all the trouble,” he murmured and he felt the boy smile into their kiss.

That one memory triggered a thousand more as he slowly, tenderly removed Justin’s clothing. Brian could see every image so clearly, all the frustration and longing of the years they’d been doing this dance. The image that stood out most to him at that moment was the very first time he saw Justin Taylor—standing like a spontaneously occurring sculpture under that streetlamp on Liberty Avenue. Beautiful beyond words, fragile beyond resistance. Brian had been compelled toward the young blond in a way he’d never really experienced before. He recalled being halfway across the street before he even consciously decided to approach the boy. He remembered hearing Michael and Ted grumbling behind him and he remembered how everything just went away as soon as he and Justin were talking. Brian remembered having to lick his lips over and over because he was salivating. The boy smelled so delicious. His brave attempts to act like a veteran of the scene were painfully endearing. Brian had wanted to kiss him immediately. He could tell what it would be like. It would be . . .

. . . just like kissing him then, in that hotel room at Lake Erie. Hot, wanton, tender, hungry, perfect. In that short span of years, kissing Justin had become one of Brian’s most favorite pastimes.

His body was fully connected to the boy then, on fire and pulsing with lust, just like always. The more they kissed, the warmer Brian’s skin became and then he started to tear at his clothes. Feeling Justin’s tongue stroking his sent shivers all through his body, making his nipples tighten, his balls throb and every inch of his skin ache for his lover’s touch. 

Naked finally, Justin’s legs wrapped around his hips, holding on, pressing their hot, swollen cocks together. Brian’s hands slipped under that narrow, silky back and lifted Justin’s body as they kissed harder and harder. He heard the boy moan and tremble against him and that was all he could take.

He opened his mouth against Justin’s throat, just below his chin, biting the flesh, tasting it fiercely, growling like he knew the boy loved. 

Justin panted and his hot fingers squeezed Brian’s arms desperately. “Fuck me . . .” he begged. “Brian, please . . . I need you inside me . . .”

Without looking, Brian grabbed for his jeans and fished out the condom in his back pocket. The wrapper came off, the sheath went on, a bit of saliva for lubrication and then . . . they were connected. They both inhaled sharply at first, bodies zinging with the pleasure of the initial penetration. Justin was so hot inside, he felt feverish. They looked at each other for a frozen moment and the entire room seemed to darken around them. Holding their breath, they prolonged the intensity of the moment as long as they could both stand and then they collapsed into a hard, fast rhythm, crushing each other’s mouths with kisses.

Justin panted Brian’s name in a trance-like chant right before he came and Brian watched his beautiful face flush with blood and his eyes slide closed as his body exploded with pleasure. He could feel every contraction surrounding him—his cock pulsed with Justin’s spasms and he moaned deep in his throat as he felt his own balls erupt. He felt like he would burst, the pressure was suddenly so acute. He tingled all over—shuddered, in fact. Justin’s legs tightened around him and he arched his back as his thick young cock sprayed hot semen all over their bellies. Brian lowered his forehead onto Justin’s chest, breathing hard, eyes closing as the last of his orgasm coursed through him.

Their bodies moved together, matching the other’s breathing pattern as they slowly settled down. Outside in the hallway, a child’s voice rang out as she told the end of a story about catching her first fish. Brian’s eyes were heavy and his body was warm, sated, relaxed. On the edge of sleep, he heard that child say something about the ghost of an angry bait fisherman but he was too close to unconsciousness to note the odd coincidence to his partner. It didn’t matter anyway. Weird things like that happened all the time, didn’t they?


	2. Eerie

Justin:

 

I love it when he falls asleep on me. In me. It’s the best feeling ever. The way his beautiful body goes slack and sort of melts into mine. God, I could just lie here forever, stroking his back and his arms, adoring his amazingly silky skin. 

I’m not really tired yet, but I’m totally relaxed. While Brian sleeps, I look around at our hotel room, taking in all the details, getting acquainted with the space. The bathroom’s huge. I hope he’ll let me get him in that Jacuzzi. We’ve never had a bath together, since he doesn’t have a tub at his place. I smile, thinking about how hot it would be to wash his hair in a bath tub . . . all slow and soft . . . yeah. I will definitely have to talk him into that before we go. 

 

There’s a big armoire that must be housing the television and mini-bar. Nice oak furniture. The balcony has a little table and two chairs on it. Maybe we’ll get room service and have dinner out there tonight so we don’t have to get dressed. I think Brian will like that. He doesn’t seem like he’s in the mood to go out.

My eyes move over the big dresser and stop on that straw hat, sitting near the mirror right where I tossed it. For a while, I just look at it and try to imagine Brian’s dad wearing it. I never met him, of course, but I’ve seen his picture. I didn’t want to say it, but Brian has his eyes. Somehow, I don’t think he’d be too happy about that.

Petting his long back just enough to keep him relaxed, I kiss Brian’s head and smell his hair. I love the way he smells. The whole time I was with Ethan, I kept one of Brian’s t-shirts hidden in a drawer. Whenever I needed a fix, I’d go smoosh my face in it. Sometimes it helped, sometimes it made me feel worse. I missed him so damned much when I was away.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a flash of movement near the dresser. Looking back, I actually stop breathing.

In the mirror, I see the image of Jack Kinney just standing there . . . watching us. The vision is filmy and frail looking as it hovers over the hat on the dresser. And in another second, it’s gone. 

When my breath rushes out again, Brian wakes up with a jolt.

“What?” he says, looking at me with red, sleepy eyes.

At first, I don’t know what to say—don’t know if I should say anything at all. I want to tell him, but then I don’t . . . He’s staring at me, though. He knows I have something to say.

“Justin, what’s wrong?” he demands, cranky because I woke him.

“Nothing,” I say. “It’s nothing. Sorry I woke you up.”

He just looks at me, not fooled for a second. “Your heart is beating like a jackhammer. What the hell happened?”

I glance over at the dresser mirror again and he follows my gaze.

Frowning irritably, he says, “what, did the fucking hat get up and do a dance?”

As soon as he says that, the hat slides forward and off the edge of the dresser, landing with a hollow plop on the carpeted floor.

 

****************

Brian: 

 

His heart rate caught up to Justin’s instantly and they pressed against each other in surprise. Brian was immediately annoyed that he let himself be alarmed by something that probably had a very logical explanation. He got up, grabbed the hat off the floor and shoved it into one of the dresser drawers, slamming it tight.

“Fucking thing,” he muttered. “It can stay in there until I burn it later.” He crawled back into the bed and wound himself around Justin’s body again. The boy was trembling slightly and Brian looked at him. “Relax. The hat just fell on the floor. It didn’t fly around the room and spell REDRUM on the wall.”

“Right,” the blond said, trying vainly to be convincing. “I know.” His pupils were so dilated that his blue eyes were almost black.

Brian’s brow knit with a mixture of irritation and concern. “Justin, you don’t really think it moved by itself, do you? The balcony door is open, it probably got caught in the wind.”

“I know,” he repeated and he did seem to be calming down a little. 

Smirking, Brian slipped his hand down the boy’s nicely muscled torso and gathered up his warm balls. Holding them gently, he whispered in Justin’s ear. “Maybe you need a diversion to take your mind off things that go bump in the night.”

It took a few more licking kisses on the neck and earlobe and some fairly insistent caressing, but finally he felt his lover sigh and his body respond to Brian’s touch. In a moment, they were kissing hot and wet and a moment later, Brian was inside him again, sliding his hard cock in and out of Justin’s body with slow, controlled strokes. 

The sex worked its magic of distraction and neither of them thought about the hat again until later that night. 

After dinner in the hotel restaurant, they went up to the expansive deck to watch the last of the sunset over Lake Erie. They found two vacant lounge chairs near a corner of the deck and a very effeminate waiter brought them cocktails. He gave them both a flirty smile before he went on his way.

“Isn’t THIS the life?” Justin said, reclining like a spoiled debutante on the plush chaise. The sun was almost gone but its golden remnants brought up the myriad shades of blond in his hair. Brian noticed, but said nothing. He thought it was better just to enjoy the view.

“Yeah, well . . . we’d better suck it up,” he said. “God knows when I’ll be rich enough to put us up in this kind of style again.” He sipped his double Absolut and looked out over the water, watching the twinkling lights on the boats nearest the shore. He wondered if Justin liked to sail.

“Brian,” the blond said. “I don’t expect you to put me up in ANY kind of style. I don’t expect you to put me up at all. You do know that, right?”

He had no reply. Justin kept staring at him until he looked back.

“Really,” the blond went on. “I didn’t come back because you had money. And you might have noticed, I also haven’t left now that you don’t.”

“I didn’t mean that,” Brian said, then he looked out across the water again. “I only meant . . .”

“You’re just depressed,” Justin finished for him. Leaning over so he could lower his voice to a soft whisper, he said, “how about this—we don’t talk about our real lives and what a shit storm they both are right now for the rest of the time we’re here. That means, until we pull up in front of your loft the day after tomorrow, not a WORD about real life. Deal?”

Closing the short distance between them, Brian kissed that voluptuous mouth for a long, lingering moment. “Deal,” he said, brushing their noses together, luxuriating in his young lover’s scent. “As long as you promise to keep me very, very occupied.”

Justin smiled and gently nipped Brian’s bottom lip. “I think I can manage that. I have some ideas . . .”

Grinning playfully, Brian ran his tongue over Justin’s yummy bottom lip, tasting the sweetness from his rum and coke there. “I hope all of your ideas involve lots and lots of orgasms.”

“You know it, baby.” 

They melted into each other, kissing full out in the sunset and Brian was just about to let himself forget all his cares for the moment, when someone standing right behind them cleared their throat.

Both of them looked up at the uniformed woman standing on the deck behind their chairs. Middle aged, a little thick at the waist but otherwise attractive, this woman appeared to be a member of the hotel staff. Her hands were folded in front of her and her late-60’s hair style was sprayed so heavily, it didn’t move at all in the early evening breeze. She smiled at them both genuinely and then she spoke.

“Be careful,” she said, but her voice was very faint, almost inaudible amid the conversations of the other guests on the deck. 

“Excuse me?” Brian barked, irritated both by the interruption and by what he felt certain the woman would say next.

She kept looking at them, her pale eyes moving from one to the other, that gentle smile never leaving her lips. “The hotel frowns on public displays of affection,” she said, that time her voice was even softer. She seemed to know she wasn’t easy to hear and she leaned forward over the backs of their chairs. “He would prefer you return to your room to make love.”

Brian sighed and flopped down in his chair, turning away from the woman rudely. Justin did the same, but not before he told her that she AND the hotel could kiss his lily-white ass.

They both waited for her to either say something else or to move on, but there was absolutely no sound forthcoming from behind them. After a few minutes, they turned around again—but the woman was gone.

Justin sat up and squinted down each length of the deck that could be seen from their chairs. There were other chaises placed along the rail like theirs, all of which were occupied by hotel guests watching the sunset just like they were. The only people in uniform anywhere around were the two male waiters. 

“Okay,” Justin said. “That was TOO weird. You did see her, right?”

“Yes,” Brian groaned. “For fuck’s sake, we both spoke to her! She wasn’t a ghost. She just moved fast. Look, she went through that door right there.” He nodded to a door marked Employees Only that was a mere 15 feet behind them. “Quit being so jumpy, would you?”

Justin gave him an aggravated stare for a moment, then he heaved a sigh. “Whatever.” He glanced furtively at the door, then back to the spot where the woman had been standing, apparently calculating how long it would have taken her to go from one point to the other. Clearly, it didn’t add up to him.

Brian reached over and tapped the half full glass in the blond’s hand. “Drink. Forget about it. There’s no such thing as ghosts, little boy.”

Justin looked into his cocktail for a long time and seemed to be weighing some option very intensely. 

“What?” Brian pressed.

Taking a deep breath, Justin said, “I think . . . you might be wrong about that.”

Rolling his eyes, Brian groaned. He was in no mood for this. “What the fuck are you talking about? That god damned hat again? It just FELL, Justin. The wind caught it.”

“Not the hat,” he said. “There was . . . something else. Before the hat fell.”

The young one’s tone gave Brian a slowly creeping chill. “What do you mean?”

Justin filled his lungs, then looked up with his big blue eyes wide. “There was this . . . reflection in the mirror before you woke up. It’s why I jumped. I . . . think . . . I’m pretty sure it was . . . your dad.”

Brian’s extremities went cold all at once. He stared at Justin for a long time before he could figure out what to say. “You’ve never even met him. How would you know what he looks like?”

“I’ve seen pictures of him,” the blond said softly. “I’m sure it was him. He was just there for a second . . . right in the mirror. Above the hat. He just . . . looked at me. Brian, I could really FEEL him looking. It was totally creepy.”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Brian sat forward on his chaise. “Why the fuck would my old man be HERE? He’s never even been to Lake Erie.”

“I don’t think it’s about here,” Justin said. “I think it’s about the hat. We brought it here . . . and I think he’s here because . . .” he sighed. “I think it’s about you and me.”

“What?” Brian said, his brow wrinkled with both anxiety and a not so small amount of fear. He didn’t like the way this ghost idea was making him feel. He was actually, genuinely freaked out.

“Yeah,” Justin said tentatively. “I think . . . it’s about us together.”

Raising his glass to his lips, Brian drained the cocktail then motioned for the waiter to come over. He didn’t say anything until the man in the pressed white uniform was standing besides his chair.

“Yes, sir?” the waiter asked politely, but his eyes twinkled impishly. It was obvious he would have done either of them right on the spot. “Would you like another round?”

“Lemme ask you something,” Brian said. “Do you have a middle aged women on the hotel staff here? She’s about this tall,” he gestured with his hands. “And she has light brown hair—sort of a Maggie Thatcher vibe to the style? Do you know who I mean?”

The waiter considered for a moment, then he said, “well, we have several women on the staff that might fit that description. Did you need to speak to her specifically or can anyone else assist you?”

Brian gave Justin a vindicated smirk. “See? There are several women on the staff that would fit that description. Real women. Humans. Not ghosts.”

The waiter looked at them a bit blankly. “I’m sorry?” he said. “Ghosts?”

“Yeah,” Brian replied in his predictable acerbic tone. “My lover thinks we just had a close encounter with a spirit wearing the uniform of a hotel staff member. I think she was very real and just walked off and went through that door.” He pointed at the employee entrance. “But he thinks she was a ghost and that she just vanished into the ether. What do you think?”

“Oh,” the waiter said, nodding his understanding. “I see. Well I can tell you that, although there have been some instances of guests claiming they saw . . . things here in the hotel, no one has ever said they saw anyone like you described. Mostly they see the children.”

Again, Brian’s extremities felt cold as he remembered hearing a child’s voice out in the hall before he dozed off that afternoon. “Are there any children staying in the hotel right now?” he asked.

“Oh yes, sir,” the waiter said. “There are quite a few families with young children staying with us this week.”

“Fine,” Brian said, feeling comforted by that information. For the time being, he was going to let himself ignore the odd coincidence of the child he’d heard echoing his own words from earlier in the day. “See?” he said to Justin. “No ghosts.”

Justin blinked at him, then looked up at the waiter. “You said people have seen the ghosts of children here? What children?”

The waiter glanced down the deck at the nearest guests to them, apparently to see if they were within earshot. Then, he lowered his voice and leaned in so only the boys could hear him. “About twenty years ago, there was a fire in an old wing of the hotel. Two children were trapped in their room and they were killed. Some of the guests over the years have said they saw the children in the lobby or in the dining room, but most people say they can HEAR them talking in the hallways.”

Brian swallowed and his throat clicked audibly. “Talking? What do they say?”

Again, the waiter glanced at the other guests before he answered. “Mostly, people have said they hear the children talking about what THEY did that day—as if the children knew them personally—or knew they were coming here. It’s really creepy if you think about it. I’ve worked here for six years and there have been lots of guests who said they had that experience.” The waiter shivered. “Gives me the willies.”

“You’ve never heard these children yourself?” Justin asked.

“No,” the waiter said, then he laughed in high-pitched titter. “I’d probably pass out, I’m such a chicken!” He leaned in again and lowered his voice even more. “Do you want me to ask around about the woman you saw?”

“No,” they both said and then they laughed at each other. 

Justin smacked Brian’s arm playfully. “You’re totally freaked out. Admit it.”

He was still laughing, but he wiped at his arms as if trying to brush away cobwebs. “It’s definitely creepy, I’ll give you that.” He looked at the waiter again. “Thanks for the information. And, yes, we need another round.”

The waiter nodded, told them they were welcome and went off to the bar.

Justin brought his drink to his lips and drained it slowly, thoughtfully. Rattling the ice cubes around in the glass, he looked at Brian with his brow knit. “Did you hear what she said? That women.”

“Yes, I was right here,” he grumbled, very much wishing the topic would go away.

“She said HE would prefer you go back to your room to make love. HE.”

“So?” Brian said, but his heartbeat picked up speed again. “She probably meant the hotel manager.”

“Who happens to be a women,” Justin told him. “I spoke to her on the phone when I called about the contest this morning. I think her name’s Janet Bartlett. Very much NOT a ‘he’.”

Brian sighed. “Look, whatever. Can we just not talk about this anymore? I’m getting a fucking headache. You didn’t see my dad, Justin. You were probably dreaming.”

After a long moment, the blond quietly said, “I was wide awake, Brian. I know what I saw. And I think I know why he’s here.” 

That was it. Brian was done. Standing up, he held out his hand and demanded the room key.

“Why?” Justin said, reaching in his back pocket for the plastic card.

“I’m gonna go burn that fucking hat.”

“Brian,” the kid said, soothingly. “Just wait a minute, okay? Listen. I think he wants to see you . . . well, to sort of see how you’re doing.”

“Are you insane?” he barked. “That drunken bastard could not have cared less how I was doing when he was alive! Why the FUCK would he give a rat’s ass from the great beyond?!”

Justin just looked at him, apparently hoping he’d calm down. But he hadn’t handed over the key yet. Brian kept his hand out.

“Come on. Give it.”

“Will you do me a favor?”

He pursed his lips and glowered impatiently. “Not really in a favor-doing mood. Give me the fucking key.”

“Brian, just listen to me for a second.” Justin reached up and took that outstretched hand, holding it in both his own. “I think your dad is checking in on you.”

“You said that. And I told you you’re insane. Now, Give. Me. The. Key.”

Taking a tolerant breath, Justin went on. “Why don’t we just wait one night before you burn the hat. If that’s how he’s connecting to you, then let him see you with me. Let him see how you’re doing. Let him know—“

“Know what, Justin?!” Brian finally exploded. “Let him know how many times I can make you shoot? Let him know how many different ways I can fuck your tight little hole? Let him know just how good I am at deep-throating young dick? What in HELL is it you think that old fuck wants to know?!!”

Maddeningly, Justin sat there for the whole rant without flinching. And he was still holding Brian’s hand. In fact, at that moment, he brought that hand to his warm young lips and kissed it very gently.

“I think he wants to know you’re all right,” he finally said. “I mean, I know he was a total cocksucker to you, but he was still your dad.”

“You have no idea,” Brian said, his heart beating dangerously fast. 

“I don’t?” Justin said, eyebrows arching. “Oh, of course, I have no idea since my dad and I get along like a fucking housefire, right?” His calm demeanor finally showed signs of wavering as his voice raised tensely. “Did you forget that my asshole father almost killed you?”

Brian was just about to fire off a typically defensive retort when someone cleared their throat behind them. Both of them flinched way too much, clearly anticipating another spectral visitor. Instead, it was only their waiter. He smiled at them sheepishly as he stood there with their fresh drinks.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said.

Justin laughed and shook his head. “No, dude. It’s cool. Thanks.”

The waiter set their cocktails down on the small table between the chaises and asked them if they wanted the drinks put on the room tab. Brian said that would be fine and the waiter gave them a formal little bow before he went on his way again.

Glancing down the row of chaises, Brian realized most of the other guests sitting on the deck were watching them. Maybe he had been making a bit of a scene. Deciding he didn’t really want to be the evening’s entertainment, he sat down on his chaise again and picked up his fresh cocktail.

For a while, he and Justin didn’t talk. They sat there watching the stars come out, occasionally looking at each other and offering tiny smiles that had any necessary conversation for them. The first of the smiles were mildly accusatory, but still gentle. The next were softer and apologetic. Then finally, Brian leaned over and connected their smiles in a kiss. 

Justin held his chin and looked right in his hazel eyes. “Wait one night before you burn the hat?”

Brian rolled his eyes, but only for show. “Fine,” he sighed. “But I’m tellin’ you, my father doesn’t care how I’m doing. He couldn’t have been happier to get away from us when he died.”

“That’s not the point, Brian,” Justin said and then they kissed again. “Now, finish your drink. I want to get started on keeping you occupied.”

Brian could only grin and move in for another luscious kiss.

 

****************

Justin:

 

I’m so stoked about this Jacuzzi tub. It’s huge, totally big enough for us both to stretch out in. 

While Brian is in the other room making sure the hat is securely shoved into a drawer, I fill the tub with hot water and some cool-smelling bubble bath the hotel provided. The scent reminds me of this soap Brian has in his shower—it’s French and has the most amazing combination of fragrances . . . lavender, mint, almond. This one isn’t quite as good, but it will do.

Next, I light some candles around the big bathroom, placing a few along the edge of the tub. Once I get the lighting right, I go out to the bedroom to raid the mini-bar and I find Brian stretched out on the bed, naked. Beautiful. I stop and just look at him for a minute, taking in the delectable spectacle. 

“Can we fuck before you bathe me?” he purrs, gently playing with thick, heavy cock.

I lick my lips and go all snarky on him. “Nope.” Chuckling, I go to the mini-bar and grab out two small bottles of champagne. It’s nice stuff, too—Piper. The first time I had that was at my high school graduation. It’s weird to think that was only three years ago. Seems more like a hundred.

Carrying the little bottles back to the bathroom, I wink at him on the way. “I’m afraid you’ll have to let me scrub you first.”

He frowns playfully. “What, do I stink or something?”

I just smirk at him and wiggle a finger in the air to beckon him into the steamy bathroom.

Taking the plastic off the water glasses on the sink, I uncork the little Pipers and pour the champagne. The tub is perfectly full and sparkling bubbles sit on top of the water like cappuccino froth. The room smells like lavender and mint. I set the glasses on the edge of the tub then start to take off my clothes.

Brian appears in the doorway and leans there, watching me disrobe. I make a good performance of it, slinking out of my pullover and tossing it aside, then rolling my hips like the go-go boy I used to be to wriggle out of my jeans. I took my shoes off when we came back to the room, so the only thing left is my shorts. Just as I go to take those off, he holds up his hand to stop me.

“Wait,” he says, moving forward like a big cat until he’s kneeling in front of me. He doesn’t take my underwear off, though. Instead, he takes hold of my hips with his beautiful hands and pulls my body toward his face. Brian presses his nose into the soft cotton crotch of my briefs and inhales like it’s the first breath he’s taken in years. His eyes are closed and his this lashes flutter against his smooth, perfect cheeks. His breath is hot on my balls and my cock stiffens instantly. My hands go into his satiny hair and hold on, stroking him, breathing with him. My fingertips are singing with sensation.

Through the cotton, Brian opens his mouth and covers the head of my cock with his lips. Again, he breathes and I feel his tongue wet the fabric. The heat from his breath gets trapped in the material against my skin and I shiver. When I exhale, I can see my breath in the steamy bathroom air. My nipples are hard and sensitive and my skin is heating up. I’ll need him to fuck me soon, but something tells me . . . he’s going to make me wait.

I look down and find his eyes on me, watching my face, gauging my expressions. I can’t help but smile at him, show him my pleasure. And then his strong fingers tug at the elastic of my shorts and slid them down over my hips. They’re gone in no time and I’m so glad to be rid of them. My cock bounces free in front of me, reaching for him, dripping honey for him. Brian holds me still with his hands on my waist and softly, so softly licks the pearly drops of liquid from my cock head. This makes us both moan.

The tip of his tongue slides along the tense bundle of nerves right below the head and then he puts a kiss there . . . gentle, affectionate . . . appreciative. He looks up at me. “Into the tub?” he whispers.

All I can do is nod.

He gets in first and settles down on his back in the water, playing with the luxurious bubbles while I step in after him. His legs are open, making room for me, and I tuck right in, nestling the little groove above my tail bone over his cock. I wait for him to rub against me and he does. The soft coarseness of his pubic hair tickles my back. We both sigh as his erection strengthens and matches the trajectory of my spine. I feel his pulse throbbing in his cock and then he reaches for mine under the water, stroking it gently, handling it confidently, doing all the things to it that he knows make me weak. 

We kiss and pet each other with the soapy bubbles, wet each other’s hair and caress each other’s skin. So much moisture, so much tense, hot flesh, so much panting breath. I’m straddling him in no time and his hands are all over me, smoothing soap into my skin and squeezing, rubbing. He bites my nipples and I moan out loud, my head drops back and he catches it in his hand, cradling my neck so carefully. Even when he’s pounding his cock into me with all the brutal force of lust, he’s always careful.

I could come right now, but I won’t. I want him to come first. I want him to cry out from the insane ecstasy I rain down on him tonight. I want to make him dizzy with pleasure. I may have been wrong about his dad wanting to see how he’s doing, but I don’t feel wrong. I mean, if it were me and I had a son like Brian . . . I’d want to know he was being loved. No matter how badly I fucked things up between him and me.

So love him, I will. In fact, I’ll worship him. Then Jack can see that everything’s fine and hopefully . . . he’ll go on and leave Brian alone. He never says it, but I know he thinks about his dad all the time. He’s haunted in his own terrible way by ghosts of everything Jack Kinney never was.

Brian’s hands are moving me now, lifting me in a sort of awkward position . . . what’s he doing . . ? I hear a switch and then a rush of hot, bubbly water bursts against my anus and I gasp. We both laugh and he kisses me.

“Nice?” he whispers.

“Ooh, yesss . . .” I bite his bottom lip and roll my hips under the water like a cat in heat. The pressure from the water jet is an intense vibration and it shoots through me, making me tingle all over. Suddenly, my skin is alive everywhere—more alive than I’ve ever felt. I feel open and wet, vulnerable and wanton. “Brian . . .” I pant. “Please . . .” 

It’s all I need to say, really. It’s all I ever need to say.

Next thing I know, I’m being lifted out of the water—literally. He carries me out to the bed and throws me on it. We both giggle at the ‘Gone With The Wind’ energy of the moment and then I’m on my back on the bed, looking in his eyes. 

Brian kisses me really hard and then he stares right into me as he slips his cock inside. His hands are holding my knees back and my hands are behind his neck, petting the soft, wet hairs there. I feel the heat of his erection spearing me, stroking me, owning me. I close my eyes for a second just to polarize the sensations and then I look at him again. 

His beautiful lips are open and his eyelashes are dark with moisture from the bath . . .or is he . . . crying? He’s moving my body too much with his thrusting for me to know for sure. It doesn’t matter, really. It would have mattered a lot a year ago, but now . . . now I just want to please him. 

I stroke his shoulders and arms as he drives into me. He moans and breaths from deep in his torso and I never let go of his gaze. I hear myself say his name . . . my favorite, most intoxicating mantra . . . and then he’s kissing me. His body shudders and his orgasm starts its assault. I feel him tremble as his tongue tangles with mine. A deep tremor goes through his hips and then he freezes and arches his back, neck stretched, mouth open, eyes squeezed shut. I watch with rapt attention, not wanting to miss a single detail of this fleeting moment.

There he is, in a rapture of perfection . . . Brian. Every time I paint him, every time I dream of him, he’s just like this. Whole. Beautiful. Indestructible. The most ideal creature ever made.

And then that magical perfection is gone—just as quickly as it came—and he’s human again. Fragile and fearless, wounded and healed. Alive and afraid like all of us. 

His breath comes back, he’s bathed in sweat and he looks at me again with his hazel eyes burning and vulnerable. That’s usually when he closes them, shuts me out so I can’t see just how much I’ve affected him. I always know, though. Always have. Since that first night when he did naked handstands and juggled lemons to impress me.

He collapses on my chest and I fold my legs around him. It’s only then, that I realize my belly is slick with my own come. I have to laugh because I was totally unaware that I’d even had an orgasm. I feel it now in my limbs, the tingling relaxation and the tension release. But when it was happening, I was clearly preoccupied.

Brian kisses me, like he always does, so softly after we catch our breath. We lie on our sides and tangle our legs together. Our fingers explore and soothe the tender spots. I shift on the rumpled bed clothes, thinking we should take that scratchy spread off and snuggle in the clean sheets. He has the same idea and we both sit up to adjust the covers. 

That’s when we see it. The hat. Sitting right on the corner of the bed.

For a moment we both stare at it, but this time neither of us are scared. This time, we just look at it, then look at each other. 

“I swear to you I put it in the drawer,” he says, assuring me.

I nod, letting him know I completely believe him.

He looks back at it and for a while I’m not sure what he’s going to do. He might toss it off the balcony, he might throw it back in the drawer, he might start ripping it apart strand by strand. There’s really no telling. 

What he does is step off the bed and grab the hat, walking over to the dark fireplace on the opposite wall. I watch in the muted light from the candles in the bathroom while he puts his father’s hat on the small grate. Next, he walks over to the sliding glass door that leads to the balcony and opens it all the way. Then he grabs his jeans and fishes out his Zippo, returning to the fireplace.

Even though my instincts tell me to go sit near him, I know he has to do this alone. I wait, almost holding my breath as he flips the cap on the lighter, rolls the flint wheel and sets the flame to the rim of the hat. The old straw catches quickly and the whole hat is engulfed in flames within seconds. The thin film of smoke smells like my grandmother’s house for an instant and then the breeze from the open door takes the scent away. Nothing is left but the subtle aroma of burned kindling. 

Brian sits at the hearth until the last ember snuffs out and then he gets up and walks over to the bed. He looks so beautiful right now, it’s almost painful. The yellow light from the candles pick up all the natural gold in his skin and hair and make him appear to be glowing. When he smiles, his eyes flash like hazel diamonds.

“Didn’t you pour champagne?” he says.

I breathe a laugh. “Yeah. It’s in the bathroom.”

He goes in and retrieves the glasses, handing one to me as he sits on the bed again. Raising the plastic containers full of effervescent liquid to each other, Brian gives me that crooked, sardonic smile I love more than I can ever explain. 

“To death,” he says.

I shake my head and touch my plastic glass to his. “To death and everything it kills.”

We know we’re talking about everything as we drink that toast. We’re talking about his dad and about our lives. We’re talking about the world. But for the moment, all that matters is us and the romance of the death of everything that was.

As we go to sleep that night, I can’t help but keep a wary eye on the dresser mirror where I saw Jack Kinney’s reflection. Is he really gone? Was burning that stupid hat really enough to send him away? When nothing appears in the mirror for hours, I decide it’s safe to go to drift off. Brian breathes evenly beside me, his arm draped over my waist and his cheek resting on my shoulder. I brush my nose in his hair again and think about how I didn’t get to wash it when we were in the tub. 

Closing my eyes, I realize we still have another day.


End file.
